Of the Fist

'Let's go,' growled Comrade Hondo, shouldering his battered AK 47 and smashing his beer bottle against the wall of Mr Mutarara's store. Hondo was a genuine war veteran, now in his fifties. He was wearing a police uniform and had been given a temporary force number, and a temporary designation: Chief Warden. With him were seven youths designated by Joint Operations Command as militias, and two brutalised farm workers. Their task that night, early morning if the glow on the eastern horizon was anything to go by, was to put into effect Operation Vote Wisely. They were armed with iron bars, the kind used to reinforce concrete. They were drunk...